The Last Psion
by Zetsuke
Summary: A boy with mysterious powers and an even more mysterious past finds himself as the tactician in the army of a young Pheraen noble. Rated for strong language and seriously illegal pony fights


Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem

_A/N: Well, I suppose I should be working on my other fic, but I just got inspired to make a Fire Emblem one, and I really like this one's plot, so please read and enjoy._

"Speech"

_"Thought"_

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Chapter 1: Flight

The inn's small bar was rowdy and packed, despite being in a small town in a small field in the middle of nowhere. Of course, Pherae was a popular vacation spot, and being situated within viewing distance of the castle didn't help the crowding. Amongst the laughter, merriment, and lewd humor, a young man descended the stairs leading to the sleeping quarters. He wore a heavy black cloak despite the heat, which quite effectively masked every bit of skin on his body. The young man settled himself on a stool at the counter.

The plump figure of the barkeep appeared in front of the young man and asked, "What can I do you for, good sir?"

"An apple cider please," the young man replied without looking up.

The barkeep seemed a bit confused at this. "Are you sure you don't wish to partake of our ale?" he inquired, "It's famous in these parts, you know."

The young man laughed at this and said, "Thank you, but I'm underage."

The barkeep just shrugged and poured the young man a cider. After all, money was money. However, just as the young man brought the cool beverage to his lips, he stopped. He slowly brought the tankard back onto the counter, untouched, tossed a coin in payment next to it, and rose from his stool.

The barkeep seemed even more confused than before at the strange customer's strange behavior. However, any inquiries might have been made to him were cut off as the young man hissed to him, "Quickly, barricade your doors. If any of these people can fight," he said, gesturing towards the rowdy guests, "tell them to get ready."

The poor barkeep was even more confused than before. "But, but…why?" he asked.

The young man turned to face him, allowing the barkeep to see his countenance. His skin was as pale a white as freshly fallen snow, while his short hair was a shade closer to wrought silver, but the most peculiar things about his appearance were his eyes. They were a brilliant sapphire blue, like two chips of ice. However, the expression in them was hardly something to stop and stare at.

Seeing the all but deadly seriousness in the young man's eyes, the barkeep scrambled to obey his orders. Just as he broadcasted to the various coincidental warriors residing at the inn that they should prepare for combat, a cacophony of screams and war cries was heard from outside. Just as the barkeep was about to thank the young man for his seemingly clairvoyant advice, he saw that he was already gone.

"We've all heard that the knights of Pherae have vanished, right? Well, your misfortune is my good luck! I have an announcement to make! As of now, this village is mine! I, Groznyi, am your new liege! Now, bring all gold, food, and women that you idiots can muster!"

The bandit lord's thunderous voice could be heard clearly from several blocks away, which was lucky, because the young man just happened to be that distance away from the town square, where Groznyi was holding court. He was dashing through alleyways and leaping over walls, easily evading the roving bandits.

"_Heh, this is too easy_," the young man thought to himself, "_All I have to do sense for hostile auras, and I'll be able to get out of here and meet up with Eliwood in no time…_"

Suddenly, the boy froze as if he were struck across the head. He cautiously poked his head around the corner of the alleyway and into a small street. Down the road, five of the bandits had accosted an attractive young village girl, plain in garb and speech. Well, not so much the speech, as she was screaming in terror, or even the garb, as her dress and apron were torn in enough places to call it indecent.

"Shut up ya wench!" one of the brigands (apparently the leader) shouted, emphasizing his point with a sharp slap across the girl's face. The girl whimpered in pain as the brigand snarled, "You'll make a fine gift for the boss, but I don't see why we shouldn't break you in first…"

"_Shit, I can't just ignore this_," the young man thought quickly, chewing nervously on the tip of his thumb, "_but things will get dicey if I end up having to fight the whole band by myself. I'll just have to finish off these goons quickly…"_

He leaped out into the street and shouted aloud, "Hey! Balls for brains! Why don't you try your arm against someone who can fight back?"

The thugs turned around, and, seeing that it was only one man, the ringleader laughed and said, "Who do you think you are kid, some kinda her-" However, he was unable to finish the sentence, as the young man's foot had collided into his face with enough force to fell a horse.

The brigand crashed into a nearby wall, making a crater in the masonry. His companions wasted two seconds trying to figure out how the young man had kicked their leader from more than 20 feet away before any of them had a chance to blink. However, these two seconds were enough for the young man to drop another of the bandits with a vicious kick to the stomach, followed up by an elbow thrust to the back of his head.

By this time, the other remaining three brigands had managed to gather themselves into some semblance of organization. They scrambled backward and stood in a rough phalanx, nervously trying to decide what to do. The stranger threw off his cloak, revealing that his arms were just as pale as his face, and settled into a simple fighting stance; legs spread apart, left foot forward, hands open, right hand held close to the stomach, and left hand held in front and away from the body. It was then that they noticed his leanly muscled body (_A/N: think Bruce Lee_), unusual clothes, and even more unusual armor. He wore all black, from his sleeveless shirt to his soft-soled shoes. His loose fitting pants were held in place by a long sash. He wore light greaves and gauntlets that appeared to have been formed by layering strips of steel atop each other, much like the body of a caterpillar.

Breaking the silence between the two parties, the young man smiled and said, "Well, as cute as I am, I think attacking me would be a better use of your time than gawking at me."

You could practically taste the testosterone as two of the bandits (apparently the more intelligent ones, as they were able to pick up on the homosexuality innuendo) roared battle cries and charged, axes raised.

When the first reached attack distance, he let loose a mighty double-handed downward slash with the intention of cleaving the young man in two. However, just as all seemed hopeless for him, he caught the axe with his left gauntlet at a gentle angle and, with an all but casual grace, brushed it aside. Before the bandit could get over his shock, the young man grabbed his left wrist, savagely twisted his arm, and delivered an awesome backhanded blow to his elbow, shattering the bone. The brigand's scream of pain was drowned out by the young man's own elbow smashing into his face. All in all, the thug was down within three seconds.

The second bandit came right after, trying for a wide, horizontal swing, coming in from the stranger's left. However, the young man easily ducked under the attack and grabbed the axe with his right hand, wrenching it out of the brigand's hands. The young man delivered two lighting-quick jabs to the brute's stomach, quickly followed by another two to the face. Before allowing the bandit to fall, the young man took a quick step back and sent him flying into a conveniently placed pile of boxes with a spinning back kick.

The last of the gang screamed in terror and fled (not surprising, seeing as how his four compatriots had been defeated within a span of two minutes). Watching the bandit's retreating back, the young man casually picked a medium-sized rock off of the ground and sent it whizzing through the air. The rock caught the bandit from the back of the head at a distance of sixty yards, instantly knocking him into unconsciousness.

The young man sighed deeply as he picked up his cloak and quickly refastened it. It was then that he remembered the young village girl that he had just saved. He turned to face her. She was still sitting on the ground, but now looked just about as terrified of him as she was with the bandits, if not more so.

"Are you all right?" he asked. The girl nodded, a bit more forcefully then necessary.

"You had best run on home miss," he continued, "Things are gonna be a bit hectic around here for a bit."

The girl nodded again, then ran off. The young man wasted another second sighing, then left as well.

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_A/N: In case any of you are confused, this takes place during "Taking Leave", the first chapter of Eliwood's story. And believe it or not, I hadn't planned on calling the main character "the young man" for the entire chapter; it just came out that way. Sorry if it sounds awkward. Constructive criticism is very welcome (especially since this was my first action scene), so please read and review!_


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